LFSH: 2 Murmurs of Discontent
by retirw
Summary: 2nd story in the Lives, Fortunes and Sacred Honor series. This is what the rest of the seven are doing in 1756.


**Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor ****safety.**

**Benjamin Franklin, Historical Review of Pennsylvania, 1759**

**Murmurs of Discontent**

July 4,1756

**Pennsylvania Colony**

Josiah Sanchez tried to pray as he waited his turn on the sales block. Unable to calm his rage, he gave up and studied his companions chained in misery around him.

"Father Josiah?" a soft voice hissed.

"Mistress Murphy, I'm not a priest, I'm only a Seminarian. I hadn't taken my vows as yet," Josiah reminded once more.

"You're the closest thing we have, I'm thinking," Mary snorted cheekily.

"Hmmm, so Mary Murphy, what can I do for you?" Josiah smiled faintly. _It's strange the forms that God's angels take. No shame about her being too 'friendly' with other women's husbands, but many have survived that would surely have died without her, myself included. _

"I'll be troubling you to keep a bridle on that temper of yours," Mary ordered.

"What's to happen to them?" Josiah asked faintly, looking toward the chained children.

"They'll be indentured until their twenty-one," Mary said carefully. "I did a good job of uglying them up," Mary noted in satisfaction.

"I was wondering for what reason?" Josiah asked curiously.

"How long were you with those the priests?" Mary demanded in disbelief.

"My father gave my sister Hannah and I to the church after our mother died. I was 6 and Hannah 4," Josiah answered quietly.

"Your sister?" Mary asked softly.

"She took vows," Josiah sighed. "She was trying to get the orphans out when the English soldiers found her."

"Dead?" Mary's chains clinked as she laid a comforting hand on Josiah's forearm.

"Eventually," Josiah growled bitterly.

"She's in a better place," Mary said calmly.

"I think I'm the one suppose to be saying the platitudes," Josiah snorted.

"You're like a bird fresh from the nest with no knowledge of this world, Josiah Sanchez." Mary shook his arm. "She **is **better off. Those children, if they're lucky they'll go to decent people who'll take care of them and release them once they reach one and twenty as their indenture says. Some will end up beaten and scrabble for a crust of bread - no different from how they lived before. A good many will die before paying off their debt. Then there are the ones the brothels will buy," Mary explained bitterly.

"They'll sell little lasses into . . ." Josiah sat up straight in disbelief.

"Lads as well. They'll buy what custom demands despite pretending the sins of Sodom are no more," Mary hissed bitterly.

"That's wrong," Josiah barked, earning himself a thump from one of the sailor's bludgeons.

"Aye, wrong, but as long as they fill their pockets, do you thing anyone cares?" Mary sniffed once the sailor had moved on. "The world is an evil place, Josiah Sanchez. Ah, looks like it's my turn. Pray for me some times, Josiah. I could have weakened your knees if you had been willing," Mary teased as she came to her feet. Rolling her hips, she took her place in line.

_I'll pray for you. I'll pray for us all, little good that it does. _Josiah watched dispassionately as Mary posed and flaunted herself to the buyers.

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Josiah stood up to greet the small plainly dressed man that had purchased him. "Take thy chains off. He is a man created in God's image, not an animal."

"I am Amos Boone." The small man offered his hand as Josiah was freed. His other hand was clasping that of Anna, one of the children from the ship.

"Josiah Sanchez." The thin, starved young man offered his own hand in surprise.

"Josiah, a good name. What is it that has brought thee to this place? Thy papers say thee bred dissension," Boone asked curiously.

"I'm Catholic sir, that is enough," Josiah admitted.

"Will thee work honestly for me?" Amos asked calmly.

"I find it difficult not to do a job properly, sir," Josiah admitted wryly.

"Good! Then let's find a clerk. I would like to change thine indenture papers Josiah." Amos laughed and swung Anna into his arms, leading the way with Josiah following.

"Change my papers?" Josiah scowled, watching the man's behavior to the little girl closely.

"Yes, seven years is entirely too much. If thee work diligently, than thou can repayest my three pounds sterling in three years." Amos grasped Josiah's arm and tried to hurry him along.

_Three years. I can be a free man in three years. _Josiah shook his head in disbelief. _Is this real? _

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"Thou may layest her down on my blanket in the back of the wagon, Josiah." Amos smiled over at his bondsman and the little girl in his arms. "She'll sleep now that her belly is full."

"We're filthy. How did you know to feed us broth and such a wee bit at that?" Josiah asked gently, repositioning the little girl to rest against his chest.

"I've seen hunger before, lad," Amos sighed. "This is my way of returning a small bit of God's bounty. Whenever I can raise the funds, I come to Philadelphia and buy as many indentures as I can. This year I managed two. Thy great size and that temper thee showed on the sale's block made for a bargain. None would waste his money on a man they would need to beat to death. The little one there was just within my ability to buy."

"Why did you buy us?" Josiah demanded.

"I am a member of the Society of Friends, or what is commonly called Quakers by those outside our community. We do not hold with slavery," Amos began explaining. "Anna will be raised as a child of our community. When she is of age, she may choose to stay or we will provide and let her go. The indenture will protect her until she is of age to make reasoned decisions. Once we've fattened thee up, thou will be a great help in the fields. I will teach thee how to make furniture that thou might have a trade. During thine service, _If_ all goes well, then I will earn back thine purchase price and that of Anna's, so that I might buy the indentures of more poor souls in time."

"I had begun to believe there were truly no good men," Josiah muttered.

"There a many good people, Josiah. Now, to explain a few things that might not set well with thee," Amos looked over.

"What kind of things?" Josiah asked faintly.

"I will not ask thee to cease worshiping God as thine want. I will ask that thee attend meeting with the family though. I think my way is better, but that must be thine choice," Boone said firmly.

"I will attend your meeting, but do not expect me to change my faith," Josiah scowled. "What other things?"

"Thee will bathe every week. Thee will wash thine face and hands before meals. If thee cannot join in our prayers, then thee will keep a civil tongue in thine head. And God help thee lad if thou will eat my Martha's kidney pie." Amos winced at the last of his demands. "A good woman my Martha, a true helpmate God did send me, but alas, the dear lady is no cook."

**Somewhere off the coast of Ireland**

Fourteen year old Chris Larabee stood on the stern of the fishing boat, looking back at the barely visible shore in the deepening night. The boy's sorrow seemed tangible to the old fisherman running up the sail.

"Best yah be getting below deck lad. We'll both be in a world of hurt if the English discover my cargo," the old man called softly.

"Aye." The youth turned and headed to the hold. "It's thanking you I am for your kindness, Mr. Kilkenny," Chris spoke seriously.

"You're not the first gosling I've carried out to the merchant ships. I carried your Da, God Bless his soul, when he went to join the wild geese in France. Damn the English and their edicts. Someday Ireland will once more belong to Irishmen." Brian Kilkenny hurriedly tied off the sail and reached for the tiller.

"Someday I'll come back," Chris swore bitterly. "I'll find Capt. Fowler and kill him." The bitter words seemed to linger on the soft breeze.

"Ach lad! Make yourself into a man your Mam would be proud of. Fight for your people, aye. But do not go looking for revenge; it is a most bitter dish and so often the innocent suffer being fed from the stewing of it," the old man counseled.

"My mother's dead! They killed her and my sisters as they knelt at mass, those soldiers of England's king. There's no crime in killing the Irish," Chris whispered. "I was grooming their horses whilst they bolted the doors and set the church afire."

"Ach Lad, it's evil times we live in. Now, on with you and go below," Brian ordered kindly. "I'll be troubling you to heave into bilge and not on me fish when the waves set your innards outward."

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Brian Kilkenny skillfully slipped away from the French merchantman after having delivered Chris Larabee on the first leg of his long journey to join the Irish mercenaries in France.

"God keep you, Lad. May you find your Caomhnóir," Brian prayed softly. "It's another gosling I put in your hands, St Jude Thaddeus. Soon, there'll no be an Irishman left in Ireland. France is the safest place for him, I'm thinking. The Lad will be needing to earn the coin to pay the bond price. Wonder if the boyo even knows what makes his spirit so restless. Forgive me Lord, those are the old ways I know. Kill the lad myself I would before letting a Treoraí fall into Sasanach hands."

**Aberdeen, Scotland**

"Oh my bonnie laddie," Fiona Wilmington gently stroked her son's curls. "I waited for you."

"Oh Mam," twelve year old Buck sobbed, grasping the too cool hand and gently tucking the threadbare blanket around her with his other hand.

"Such a fine brau lad ye are. Yer Da would be so proud of ye," Fiona said.

"Aye Mam, ye have told many the time," Buck soothed.

"This is the end of me lad," Fiona coughed.

"No, Mam ye'll be fine," Buck promised desperately.

"Sh, Sh, I can feel the cold seeping in. Father Andrew has been and gone now. Heather, the sweet child, snuck him in that I might have last rites. Now, don't ye be interrupting me, time is short. A dreamer yer da. Me bonny, bonny Will. Ran to serve Prince Charlie he did without a by your leave. It might have been better had he died at Culloden. Instead they took him up as a soldier to serve in the British army. He'll be comin' home no more. I tried to find a better way son, truly I did. No honest work for the wife of a rebel could I find." Fiona began to cough. Gently, Buck wiped the blood from her lips.

"I shouldn't have asked Col. Anderson for my price. I knew full well that man's fist before hand. No matter now. Killed me this time he has," Fiona sighed. "Listen to me and do this last thing for yer Mam. Take ye the bit of money that we saved and go down to the docks. Take ye passage on a vessel bound for France. Find the clansmen that have gone to serve there. I'll not have ye swinging from the gallows for me death. Remember yer mam loved ye. Treat the lasses kindly, Buck. This world has too little of a gentle hand. Now smile for yer old Mam and get ye gone before the watch takes ye for a vagrant and sells ye over the ocean where it's scalped and eaten by wild Indians ye'll be. Heather and the others will see to me. I'll no' be restin' until I see the back of ye. William, learn ye to read. Promise me now," Fiona ordered.

"I promise Mam." Buck lay a trembling kiss on his mother's cheek before gathering what little he had and slipping out the door.

**London, England**

"Mother, please do not leave me." Seven year old Ezra reached out to his mother.

"Hush darling boy, now you must be very quiet. The duke does not care for children." Maude grasped the boy's shoulder. "Wipe away your tears. Appearances are everything, my son. Your very life depends upon it. Never, ever let them see your pain. It is a weakness that others will use against you," Maude spoke sharply. "Now, practice with your cards and do your lessons and I will be back before dawn."

"Ken Ema," Ezra sighed.

The harsh crack of a palm to the cheek filled the air. "Never, ever speak the Hebrew again! Do you hear me?" Maude shook Ezra roughly. "It is our death if any learn. They **killed** your father for simply being a Jew. You are Ezra **Standish,** do you hear me? Ezra Pearlbinder died at Newgate along with his father and mother."

"Yes Mother," Ezra whispered.

"That's my good son. Now off to your lessons. Learn, learn everything you can." Maude stroked the boy's scarlet cheek and kissed his forehead. _His eyes are the same beautiful green as David's and as full of emotion. God, help me protect him._

Maude watched as Ezra hurried out of the room. _Yes my son, hide your tears even from me. My father, the most Christian Vicar Standish, cast me off when I married my gentle David. That was not enough for him but that he must hound us all to our deaths. He was doing the 'right' thing, it being against the King's law to marry outside your faith. He thinks we all are dead at Newgate. The name will serve us well enough. Now, to entice a Duke. Coin is the only thing one can trust in this world._

**Gwynedd, Wales**

The thirteen year old stood head ducked as she listened to her Mistress rage. The rough skin of her fingers caught on the folds of her apron as Mary pleated the material nervously.

"I expected better of you, girl. I bought your indenture, thereby keeping your family out of the debtor's prison and brought you into my home. I gave you a place, a chance to make something of yourself and this is how you repay me?" The Lady Elizabeth fumed. "How dare you carry on in such a low manner and get a bastard child while in my service," The mistress hissed, glaring at the obvious rounding of Mary Dunne's belly.

Mary trembled and huge tears ran down her cheeks to drip onto the collar of her livery. The furious discourse ceased as the sitting room door swung open.

"Elizabeth, we need to speak. Mary, go about your duties," Augustus Henry FitzRoy II, Lord Euston ordered firmly.

Mary hurriedly left the room, carefully closing the door behind her before fleeing to the kitchen and the comforting arms of old Bess the cook.

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"Henry fathered the babe," James sighed.

"Henry? Our Henry?" Abigail gaped.

"Yes, not so much as a blink of the eye when he admitted forcing the girl. It seems he mounted her when he visited at Easter," Augustus growled.

"I expect him to have a kept woman or two, that is only to be expected. But to behave in such a manner with my servants . . .. Flaunting his improprieties in the face of his new bride," Lady Euston stormed.

"He's off to London in the morning. I informed him that his allowance would be cut off if he didn't at least spend himself on his wife occasionally and attempt to provide me with a legitimate heir within the year. Now, what do we do about this babe?" The master slouched down into a chair.

"We can sell her indenture," Elizabeth considered.

"Elizabeth, she is carrying our only son's child," FitzRoy growled.

"Augustus, there are no telling how many babes Henry has wrought," Elizabeth huffed.

"This one we know about. This one we are bound by duty to provide for in some manner. Would you have us behave like these low class Welsh?" Lord Euston demanded.

"What do you suggest then?" Elizabeth demanded.

"Keep the girl on. We'll pay for the babe's upkeep. Do not add the cost on to the girl's debt. We'll see how things go," Augustus said thoughtfully.

"I will not have that Welsh sow's babe acknowledged," Elizabeth snarled.

"Good God, woman! I have no intention of accepting the whelp," Lord Euston laughed in disbelief. "We'll simply wait and see if this one is a boy. If it is, we'll see that he receives proper schooling and such in case there's no legitimate heir. Better a bastard we've raised then who knows what low scoundrel. The babe and his mother will be easy enough to be rid of should need be."

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Irish Gaelic Words

caomhnóir guardian

treoraí guide

Sasanach English

St Jude Thaddeus – Desperate situations, forgotten or lost causes

Ken Ema yes mother in hebrew


End file.
